


Anniversary Bash

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Animal Death, Anxiety, Disordered Eating, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Homophobia, M/M, Religion, Unsanitary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dennis sets up an elaborate scheme to entice Mac on their 50th Monthly Dinner, but Mac gets a little side-tracked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He stands in front of the mirror, inspecting the woman’s wax job, his own kit on hand in case her work was not to his satisfaction.  As far as Dennis can tell, sparse hair no longer plagues his chest.  He runs his hands over his smooth torso and moves to examine his legs.  Not a strip of hair lines his body from ankles to torso, arms notwithstanding. Although he doesn’t mind hair, Mac seems to admire hairless “beefcakes” the most, and today is about what Mac wants.  And what Dennis wants, of course, was for Mac not to resist temptation when he finally presents himself.  
\----------

“Dude, are you alright?”  
The sounds of Dennis’ hacking calls Mac to his room.  
“Yeah, but just in case I’m not, I think you should---,” more forced coughing emanates from Dennis’ pathetic form curled in the bed, “You should hang with Charlie today, at least until we depart for Guigino’s."  
  
Mac seems skeptical about Dennis' optimism for their dinner plans, recalling the ill-fated time Dennis said he could muster through food poisoning, “Will this be over by tonight though?  Because I’m not okay with getting whatever end-of-the-world virus you clearly have, and I really don’t want to miss our Monthly Dinner, man.”  
  
“Oh, I’ll feel better, trust me.  I won’t leave you high and dry on our 50th Dinner,” he chuckles low in more of a rhythmic coughing sound than anything, “I have superhuman control of my body. Just---a bag of lozenges and water will leave me better than ever.”  
  
Mac curls his lip in disgust as he picks up an already open bag of lozenges by two fingers and places it on Dennis’ bed, “I’ll be at the bar if you need anymore sick stuff.”   
  
“I won’t need anything more, I assure you.  Just be back promptly by 6.  We’re on thin ice at Guigino’s as it is; don’t need to add in tardiness,” he coughs hard enough to drive Mac away from the bed and keeps coughing until Mac takes hold of the door handle to quarantine Dennis in his room, ”I’m just gonna go, so…”  
As soon as he hears the apartment door lock, Dennis peels back the covers, grabs his keys, and arrives promptly at his 9:30am beauty treatment.  
  
\--------------------

Mac finds Charlie sitting at the bar covered in grime and drinking a beer, rat bat propped against an adjacent stool.

“Hey, what up?  I thought today was Monthly Dinner.” Everyone knew not to bother Mac and Dennis (mostly Dennis) on today of all days because to get them involved in any schemes would mean distracting them from necessary dinner preparation.

“Ah, Dennis is sick.  I thought we could hang out until tonight. Are you doing anything besides, ya know, bashing rats?”  Maybe he should suggest that Charlie take a shower because whatever those stains are on his shirt, he's sure he doesn’t want Charlie touching him.

“You’re in luck,” Charlie slides off his stool and shoulders his bat, “I just finished the rounds today, so we could check out what the dump has to offer.”

“Ehhh, nothing that will leave me gross or smelly or covered in shit or rat guts, really mostly anything that you’d be interested in,” his line of thought trails off as the bat in Charlie’s hand gives him a great idea, clapping his hands in excitement, “I got it.  Let’s play some baseball!  We could have a catch!”

Charlie radiates excitement, enthusiastic just to spend some time with his best buddy Mac, “That sounds great!  Do you have a ball we could use?”

“Ah shit, maybe one back at the apartment, but I don’t want to go back there with Dennis sick and everything…” He puts his thinking face on, hands on his hips and everything.  
  
Charlie joins the pensive silence, thinking of any substitutes, things they could hit with a bat that would be just as satisfying as baseball. Inspiration strikes, and he taps Mac with the back of his hand, “Dude!  We could smash Christmas  ornaments!  It’s the best of both worlds!  You got your baseball and you got your smashing.  What could be better?”  
  
“Those are like my two favorite activities!” Mac grins at how well Charlie knows him.

“We could visit my mom and sneak some of her decorations away.  She probably wouldn’t even notice.”

The two prep to leave, but Mac stops Charlie before their energy got them too one-track minded, “But first, ya gotta take a shower or something.  You smell like roadkill, dude.”  
  
“Oh, that’s just the rat guts; you know they expel any excrement before I can smash 'em so sometimes it just ---,” he makes a fountain-type noise before Mac cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear about exploding rats.  Let’s just pick you up some of those sanitary wipes or something.”  The bar door shuts as they head toward the residence of Mrs. Mac and Kelly.


	2. Chapter 2

Of all the events they could’ve commemorated as symbolic and important enough to need an anniversary, they celebrate a dinner.  They don’t even know when the first dinner was; Mac just decided one night they should "totally keep track of Monthly Dinner as a celebration of our friendship, an anniversary of us getting back together after you said we should go on a break but you missed me too much so yeah."  Dennis didn’t think much of it at the time seeing as they had much more important topics to discuss (like criticizing Dee’s latest character or constantly reminding each other not to talk about the Gang because ‘the night’s about them and their friendship,’ but slipping into the familiar routine anyway as they continue to skirt the lingering issues in their relationship).  
  
It’s been about 5 years since that happened right?  5 x 12 = 50, no wait, 4 x12 = 48 + 2 = 50, so 50th Monthly Dinner he guesses.  When Mac first told him it was their 50th, Dennis had flashes of them at Frank’s age still living in their apartment, unsure if time had tricked him and he’d skipped the next several decades.  But as Mac explained the situation, Dennis nodded along to his words, but in actuality, inspiration had struck as it often does with his naturally quick mind.

Sure, they’d had sex before.  Quick handjobs, blowjobs, or the single failed instance at the Bleu Martini where servers alerted the manager that there were “two men taking an inordinate amount of time in the unisex restroom,” the last case being the reason why they had to relocate to Guigino’s as the Bleu Martini was no longer the “nicest restaurant in Philadelphia,” not because they were banned or anything.

But Dennis doesn’t want that.  He wants a whole ordeal that will rival any recorded love making scene.  He wants Mac to manhandle him but touch him reverently, showing Dennis, no, _proving_ to Dennis just how much he loves him.  He wants more than just bathroom sessions instigated by overwhelming tension left hanging too long until the next time.

\----------------------------

The crimson nail polish gleams in the light of his bathroom, and he can nearly see his reflection: ten little Dennis-es admiring the view, well, 11 if you count his actual self, _well_ , 12 if you count the one in the mirror.  It doesn’t matter.  His nails are unblemished and will contrast spectacularly with the Surprise(s) he has stashed in his closet.  He thought about ordering the pieces online, but that was too risky seeing as Mac might intercept the package.  No, he’d had to go to the sex shop under the guise of buying for his girlfriend (not that the man behind the counter cared about or believed Dennis’ story).

It was 2pm, so he doesn’t want to do his makeup just yet.  Still, four hours goes quickly.  Instead of wiling away the day idly, he decides to start choosing the makeup’s color palette, switching on his stereo and popping in his “Get Ready MiXXX.”

\---------------------------

Bonnie Kelly greets the two with hugs and a welcoming smile as always.

Mrs. Mac is asleep on the couch…possibly.  She looks the same awake and asleep to Charlie, but he isn’t gonna risk insulting Mac’s mom in front of him.  
Mac tries to wake her with, “Hey, mom!  Your boy’s here!” but nothing stirs her.  She might be faking after hearing the doorbell ring, cutting off the chance for interaction with guests, but Charlie isn’t going to say that either.  

Instead Charlie casually asks his mom where he might find his childhood stuff, if it’s still in the attic next to the Christmas ornaments.  “Oh, of course!  I put everything back into the exact same spot.  Do you need me to show you where your stuff is?”

He’s pretty sure he can find his stuff and work from there, so he kindly declines his mom’s help and sets off to tear apart the attic for those shiny Christmas orbs, the ones he loved to smash as a kid so his mom only put them out of his reach, which, in truth, wasn’t that far from the ground anyway.

As Charlie climbs the stairs to the upper levels of the house, Mac keeps his hands jammed in his pockets, ready to escape at a moments notice with the goods. 

Bonnie brings a couple glasses from the kitchen, “Would you like some lemonade, Mac?  I just made it.”  
  
Mac takes a glass and gulps, spluttering when he finds his mouth burning, “Is there vodka in this?”

“Oh yes, that’s how I always make it!  Two shots of vodka in every pitcher,” she takes a drink from her own glass and frowns at Mac, “Is that alright?”

Mac shakes his heads even though he isn’t a big vodka drinker, “Oh no it’s fine.  I was just surprised.  I was expecting it to be sweet and then it hit my mouth and, hey, I didn’t think you were married, Mrs. Kelly.”  A delicate wedding ring with a small stone glimmers from the hand holding her alcoholic lemonade.

“Ah, yes, she didn’t tell you because she knew you’d be upset.  Me and your mother are married.  I’m your new mom! Isn’t that just wonderful?”

Mac doesn’t know if this is a joke or what because it’s a really unfunny joke if it is and if it’s not, it’s absolutely terrifying, “Are you serious?  My mom’s married to Luther.  To my dad.”  He can feel a weird tangle of emotions, rage one of them, jealousy maybe, fear definitely.  “My mom would never get a divorce; that’s against the Church!  And also she’s not gay.”

Bonnie pats his arm and proceeds as sweet as her lemonade, “I’m sorry, dear.  But your mother divorced Luther a while ago.  I thought we should get married because we’d been living together for a while, and one day I thought, hey, I’m the only one she can stand, and she keeps me young and open to new experiences, so I proposed!” Her disappointment at Mac’s reaction fades with each moment she relays her modern love story, “We caused quite a commotion at the court house, but we’re married, and just in case you were wondering, it’s an open marriage because your mother doesn’t have much of a sex drive to be honest.”

Mac tries to zone out, but each word tumbling out of Mrs. Kelly’s, Mrs. Kelly-McDonald’s?, mouth feels like she’s trying to rip away his childhood and his family and his mom, “Shut up!  You’re delusional!  My mom would never want to marry you.  She loves my dad, and my dad loves her and they’re gonna live together one of these days I know it!”

The exaggerated yet sincere frown returns to Bonnie’s face, and before Bonnie can reply, Mrs. Mac speaks up from her seat on the couch, “I don’t love your father, and I don’t love you.  Now, get the fuck outta here.”

Stomping down the stairs carrying a medium-sized cardboard box, Charlie catches Mac running out the door, glass on the floor and a stain on the wall where he must’ve thrown his drink.  He races out the door before his mom can discover which box he’d taken and more importantly so he can figure out what had possibly gone wrong in the few minutes he was upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Two hours ‘til, and Dennis feels like he’s made progress.

It only took a couple dozen tests to realize that the blue eye shadow/red lipstick combo was making him look like a clown, but no matter.  He’s settled on a much classier look:  a bronze-gold shine fading into black for his eyes and a red much deeper than the cherry he’d been trying so hard to pull off for the last half hour. 

Satisfied with his makeup plans, he decides to finally don his gay apparel, dancing in a sort of shuffle to Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love” for maybe the fifth time that evening.  With a spin, he opens his closet, retrieves the crumpled purple bag from the sex shop, and slides the contents of the bag onto his bed. The thong, chemise, thigh highs, and lube (which, to be honest, was a ‘just in case he runs out of his current stock’ last minute purchase) stare back at him, waiting for some kind of reaction.  And the reaction they get is frankly not something Dennis himself even expected.

He’s really doing this?  This isn’t just the fantasy he’d played out over and over again where Mac fucks him and everything’s the same in the morning because it’s just a dream.  Mac’s going to open the door and just run with _this_ [he mentally gestures to himself, dripping with self doubt]. He shouldn’t have given himself so much time to get ready because now he’s having second thoughts and what if Mac just walks out of the apartment and pretends like the whole thing never happened.

What if he gets all defensive, calls him gay or _worse,_ doesn’t speak to him and tells everyone in the Gang what he did, _tried_ to do?  Would he do that?

Dennis figures if there were a Worst Night To Question His Extremely Sexy and Anticipated Plans, this would be that night. Not to mention how he’d crash if this weren’t to come to fruition.  All that expectation leading to naught would send him god knows where.

Maybe he hasn’t made as much progress as he thought.

\------------------

Mac must’ve sprinted back to the bar because Charlie didn’t catch him at all, couldn't even see him down the block.  That or Charlie was just naturally slow and had to carry a box full of breakable shit on top of that, so there was a good 10 minute lag between them. 

He opens the door to the pub with his back and finds Mac pacing alongside the bar, airing his thoughts at no one in particular (two homeless men in the corner and Dee on a barstool listened at first but tuned out when he looped the same angst-ridden, particularly vehement but mostly frightened phrases endlessly).

When Mac notices Charlie, he snaps out of his trance, but Dee’s the first to speak, “What happened at your mom’s house, Charlie? All I’ve pieced together is that your moms are going to hell and that Mac looks like a greasy pigeon when he’s anxious.”

“Why is my mom going to hell, dude?” Charlie’s offended on his mom’s behalf and waits to hear a lukewarm explanation for the offense.

Dee's bird comment totally flew over Mac's one-track focus.  He spewed out the entire situation rapid fire, bursting at the seams, “Your mom, my mom, you know they live together, right--they’re--first of all, my mom divorced my dad, which is a sin against God because marriage is sacred, and now your mom, who is now my mom, asked your mom to marry her so now they’re gay married lesbians and I don’t know what to do because your mom corrupted my mom’s soul and now they’re both going to hell.” 

“You mean we’re brothers now? Like adopted brothers? Hell yeahhhhh!” Charlie sets the box down on a bar stool and goes in for a high five, but Mac rejects the celebration.  “No, dude, you don’t understand—“  Before he can get any further reiterating his point, Charlie cuts him off, “No, I get it. Your mom and my mom are married, and now we’re brothers.  Everyone’s happy except you because you’re homophobic and closeted and whatever. You know what, let’s just go bash some of these ornaments that’ll make you feel better.”

Mac nods his head violently, agreeing to anything that will take his mind off the catastrophic situation at hand, “Yes, totally. Let’s go Bash! Some! Balls!”

“Nice, just go get the bat from the back office, alright?  Meet you outside in the alleyway.”

As the two part ways, Dee rests her elbows on the bar top, mulling over the new info and wondering if she should text Dennis about this new development.  ‘ _Nah, it’s funny when he’s the last to know stuff.  He gets so irritated.’_ She smirks to herself and follows the quickly departing Mac outside to the alleyway to see if she can convince the guys to let her have a swing.


	4. Chapter 4

He sits on the edge of his bed, a dead feeling settled in the center of his chest. 

The makeup’s fully applied.  The entire get-up’s on, including the duster. He should be bursting with sensuality by now, but he looks down at himself in disappointment. Why is everything empty? Does it feel like he’s forcing this?

Maybe the thong’s just riding up.

______________________________________________

Charlie tosses a bright red ball at Mac, and he misses completely.  The glossy Christmas ornament rattles down the alleyway and rests against an empty oil drum, replicating their game in a rosy, fat way.  Dee watches from the back door of the bar and decides to speak up after Mac misses his fifth pitch.

“Hey, can I take a swing?  Bet I can’t strike out as much as this bozo,” she smirks, pointing her thumb to Mac and holding out her hand expectantly.

“Yeah, you know what Mac, why don’t you give her like one swing.  We have plenty of balls left.  Actually, we haven’t smashed one since we’ve been out here, so…”  Charlie inclines his head at Mac towards Dee.  Mac protests silently and hands over the bat.

Dee hits the bat meaninglessly against the insides of her tennis shoes and squats in anticipation of the pitch.  Charlie throws over hand from 15ft away, and Dee strikes, smashing the silver orb with delight.  “I got it first try!  Eat that, turkey.”

“Holy shit, Dee, you rock at this!  Home run.  Wait, no, uh, grand smash!”  Charlie tries to adapt new lingo for their hybrid baseball game.

Mac can’t stand Dee’s success, “Well, that was a better pitch than what I got, and you’ve been watching so you have an idea of—you know what, why don’t you just give me the bat back.”

Charlie grabs another red ornament from the aged cardboard box, “Dee, you ready?”

Dee wiggles her bat with exaggeration, putting on what she imagines to be a 1920s baseball player accent, “Ey, yeh, I can take that stink any day oh the week, jerk!” 

“What, that, that’s not anything, Dee, just swing, alright?  Mac! Get out of the way, it’s still Dee’s turn until she misses.”

“It’s not fair!  It’s my turn, it was my idea for this anyway.  Give me—“  Mac hovers around Dee, but she shuffles sideways to avoid his grabby hands.

“Dee, ya gotta stand still, or I can’t aim!” Charlie shouts from his position on the makeshift pitcher’s plate.

“I can’t, he’s—let the batter have some room!” Dee swivels and shouts in Mac’s face, quieting his whines.

“Alright, I’ll—I’ll be umpire!  I’m just gonna take a stance, aaaaand ready, Charlie!” Mac’s positioned about two feet behind Dee off to her left, hand out as if he had on a mit.  
“Dude…okay, alright,” Charlie wants to say something, but Mac has made up his mind.  He tosses the medium sized bobble in an arch.  The pitch is too high, but Dee swings up anyway.  Mac’s gaze follows the ball, half-rising to reach for it, but Dee’s bat has the same idea. 

There’s no satisfying crash of silver this time, just a _thhhwhhhACK_ as the bat collides with the side of Mac’s face.


	5. Chapter 5

‘ _Hey dennis I’m coming home. duckin dee hit me in the face with a bat and I feel like shit’_

Dennis reads the text with a sinking stomach and strings the usual, obligatory insults together in frustration, “Worthless bitch! She has single-handedly ruined tonight for us, goddamn gangly bitch couldn’t wait to hit Mac in the face until tomorrow?  What a fucking disaster. She’s done nothing but drag me down my entire life!” Dennis seethes as he paces back and forth across the living room, finally throwing the phone across the room at the wall where it shatters.

His outburst momentarily soothes his irritation, but not long after trying to mentally compose a reply to Mac’s text, he realizes he’s lost all lines of communication with his roommate.  Last time he checked, it was 5:29 PM, so that doesn’t leave any time at all to light candles or create any semblance of a sensual atmosphere, that is assuming Mac isn’t too busted up to bang.

He doesn’t want to change out of his get up, wash off the makeup, mess up with perfectly curled hair just yet.  Maybe Mac will still be into it.

At the very least, he will have a very satisfying jerk off session.

________________________________

When Mac opens the door, Dennis is reclining on the couch, watching Storage Wars on mute and lightly dozing.  Mac’s groan alerts Dennis, who perks up and winces when he spots the double black eye spreading across his friend’s face.

Mac only catches a glimpse of the duster on his way to the kitchen for something cold to put on his face, “Do we have any like frozen peas or corn? I need to ice my face. And Dennis, I’m sorry, man, I can’t do Monthly Dinner like this,” Mac stands in front of the open freezer, pointing to his face, eyes closed, to display his wounds, “I mean, we should’ve stuck to tradition and not left the apartment all day.  But you just _had_ to get sick.” With this accusation, he whirls around to find that some sort of cat-like, lingerie-wearing creature had taken Dennis’ place. 

The duster lay like a second skin draped across their couch.  Dennis/not-Dennis/ultra-Dennis(?) prowls toward him, resting his elbows on their dining table while arching his back to accentuate the strap-backed chemise hugging his ass. Coal shadowed, gold-lined eyes lock onto Mac’s bruised indigo purple ones, and Mac legitimately forgets where he is.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Mac stumbles through a series of half-formed questions, “What is—what are—is that—why are you—is this a trick? Are you tricking me?”

Of all the things that Mac could have say about what he’d spent the whole day crafting, he asks if it’s a _trick_. How dare he.  How dare Mac point out his over handed trick to cajole him into sex.  Doesn’t Mac trust him? 

Dennis rises from his bent over position at the kitchen table and glides over to the fridge, resting his palms behind his back on the countertop, “You _know_ what this is, Mac.”

The cool air from the freezer has started to make Mac shiver, not realizing the freezer door has probably been open for about 2, going on 3 minutes now.  When Mac doesn’t stop tracing his eyes up and down Dennis’ body, Dennis sidles over to the freezer to find a bag of goddamn peas because frankly this lack of response is getting annoying.

Dennis shuts the freezer door, and this seems to shock Mac back into the present moment.  “Uh, thanks,” he breathes when Dennis hands over the bag for his double black eye.  Mac grabs a dishtowel within arms’ reach, eyes not leaving Dennis for a second, and wraps the freezing bag with the towel as a barrier between the freezer burnt food and his skin. He stands there, covering one side of his swollen face, looking dumbly at Dennis, “Uhhm, my eyes really hurt, Dennis. I've had a really bad day.  I think I’m gonna go lay down.”

Mac walks backwards painfully slow, eyes still on Dennis, and when he reaches his room, Mac drinks in the view as long as possible as he shuts his door with a _click._


	7. Chapter 7

Dennis throws little punchy punches at Mac’s closed door and takes off his thong as quickly as is possible, seeing as he’d expected the damn thing to be off by now anyway. He marches to his room to find some _practical_ underwear before pursuing the situation with Mac any further.  Of course Mac had overlooked any sort of painkillers in his lust filled haze before secluding himself in his room, so it’s no surprise when Dennis turns to see Mac in the doorway just as his boxer brief's waistband snaps into place.

“Hey, uh, I’m just--here for Tylenol,” he points at his face and enters their bathroom to root through the medicine cabinet.  As Mac takes the pill bottle and turns on the faucet to swallow a couple capsules, Dennis glares at the floor impatiently, arms crossed. Before Mac has the chance to retreat to his room once more, Dennis stops him, hoping to end [or join in on] whatever pity party Mac might be throwing, “What the hell is wrong with you? No, besides the face. You’re giving off this hurt puppy vibe and I can’t stand it.”

Mac spins around, affronted, “What’s wrong with _me_? I come home to find _you_ dressed up like you’re from Rocky Horror Picture show, and you ask what’s wrong with _me_?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I don’t care what it was supposed to be because it’s confusing and weird and I can’t handle it today! My mom is gay!” With this, Mac sits on the end of the bed, crinkling the peas to his face and sulking.  Dennis doesn’t say anything, but sinks into place next to his friend, waiting for Mac to inevitably continue complaining.  
  
His speech is fast and rambling and gradually increasing in pitch in the worst of ways, “Me and Charlie went over to Charlie’s mom’s house today for some things to smash, and we get there and his mom has this wedding ring on so I ask her about it and she says it’s for her and my mom!  And then my mom says that she divorced my dad, and I said that all of this was ridiculous because she loved my dad and she’s not gay but then she told me she didn’t love me and now I just don’t know what to do,” Mac ends in an out of breath huff, while Dennis nods his head knowingly, placing his hand on Mac’s shoulder.  He waits a beat before replying to Mac’s lost, bruised face.  
  
“That sure sucks, buddy. To learn your mom is gay, remarried, and hates you all in the same day? I mean, I wouldn’t care about any of those things if it were me, but _you_ …”

Mac rises to his feet in anger, speaking down at Dennis in a vie for dominance, “That’s it, then? That’s all you have to say? My mom and Charlie’s mom are spending their afterlives in a Pit of Eternal Suffering, and all you have to say is ‘That sucks?’”

Dennis winces and stands to match Mac, “Oh not this again. I don’t want to talk about the evils of homosexuality, Mac. I don’t care!” Mac moves to interrupt but Dennis is too quick, “No, stop. I don’t care that your mom or Charlie’s mom is gay. Let them be old and happy and gross together! No, let me finish. Take a look at your family, Mac. Do you know anyone who isn’t gay? Hm?”

“This is ridiculous. You know my dad isn’t–”  
  
“No, Mac, _your dad_ came onto me in the Paddy’s restroom. I thought he just walked around with his eyes that wide all the time, but no, apparently he was checking me out, and I’m glad he’s in prison again because I don’t think your dad takes it lightly when people turn him down.”

Mac points wildly, “You take that back! Don’t you taint my dad’s name like that! You’re probably the one who came onto him,” Dennis’ astounded face only increases Mac’s vigor, “Yeah, you had to settle for him because you can’t have me because I’m too straight for your shit. That’s right!”

“You’re calling me gay?”

“Well take a look in the mirror, Dennis! Would a straight man wear that?”

“This has nothing to do with my sexuality. It has to do with yours!”

“Mine?”

“The only reason I did this was because it’s what you like!” Dennis gestures to his borderline tacky (alright, _very_ tacky) mesh front chemise with spandex straps running up the back and the clasps from his garter belt hanging lose.

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, no? You don’t like how these look on my thighs? Or how the straps here accentuate my curves?” Dennis strikes a pose, running a hand over his own ass for emphasis, “Or how the red lipstick would look smudged down your chest? Or between your thighs? None of this appeals to you?”

Mac is not only flustered but also floundering in the deep end of his denial, “Maybe on a woman!”

“You can’t even say that with a straight face. When was the last time you even looked at a woman, Mac?”

“Last week in the mall.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You remember, I pointed her out because she was wearing leggings as pants.”

“Yes, and immediately after that you said that I could do a much better job pulling them off than she could.”

“I’m going to bed!”

“Fine! Just know I’m never doing this for you again! Not even if you ask!”

“Good!” Mac storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

And before Dennis even has time to consider changing into some pajamas and stress eating his way through the night, Mac has charged right back through the door to firmly plant his hands on Dennis’ hips and ass, trying to find an angle for his and Dennis’ lips to fit together that doesn’t involve noses crashing or bumping black eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

“I knew.  _I knew_ you’d be back,” Dennis gloats as Mac pries his hands from Dennis’ body to take off his own shirt. Dennis didn’t know shit, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to act like he did.

“Shut up,” Mac lets his shirt fall wherever it may and brings one hand up to cup Dennis’ face, using his free hand to work on getting his pants off as quickly as possible while pressing his mouth over Dennis’ to keep him quiet.   He kicks off his shoes, shimmies his pants down, and steps out of his pant legs amazingly without tripping over himself in his enthusiasm.

But Dennis doesn’t shut up.

“It’s true though.  It’s been way too long anyway.  Since our last, ya know,” he pulls Mac back by his thick hair from his way kissing down his neck, locking their half-lidded gazes together to acknowledge the moment’s importance.

Mac’s none too happy at the slowed pace, but he crumbles under Dennis’ intense gaze. 

They’d always been too fast, never talking. When the occasion arose that their affections overflowed into moments like this, they rushed like they had been given a 5-minute timeout from life, like they were cheating on their final exams while the teacher was looking away, like the quicker the mistake the less God would judge Mac.

The hunger, the bloodlust in Dennis’ eyes should’ve scared Mac, but he’d never been looked at that way in his whole goddamn life. Mac wanted to be wanted. Wanted to be _worshipped_ like he was the fucking second coming of Christ himself.  He fucking _deserved_ this after the day he’d had.

But when Mac tries to pull down Dennis’ briefs so that they can give each other handjobs, Dennis places a firm hand over Mac’s and says in the softest, most dangerous voice,

 _“_ No. I want you to _fuck me.”_

Mac swallows and nods hazily, “Okay.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Dennis’ surprise, Mac has never actually participated in full-blown gay anal sex before.

“I’ve never had gay sex before, Dennis,” Mac admits as he stares at Dennis positioned on all fours on his bed, ass in the air like some sort of needy cat.

Dennis turns onto his back, “Are you serious?”   
Mac replies by fiddling with the tube of lube and biting his lip.   
  
“Okay, Mac, just, give me that, okay,” Dennis reaches for the lube and unscrews the cap to coat his pointer and middle finger, “I’m going to open myself up for you, alright?  Unless you really just want to—never mind, I’m not having you fuck up my ass in an emergency room visit way, no offense.”

“What do _I_ do?” Mac doesn’t like feeling incompetent and isn’t one for waiting, so he feels especially naked standing naked in front of an equally vulnerable Dennis.

“Uh, just watch, Mac, you’re not going to be bored. Trust me,” Dennis smirks, hiking up his chemise, spreading his legs, and pressing his middle finger slowly inside himself.

And just as he’d predicted, Mac’s entirely transfixed. After catching a glimpse of Mac’s face, Dennis adds a second finger and winces slightly until both fingers disappear, curving inside himself to elicit a few soft moans.  He takes a moment to trail his finger tips over the underside of his cock, humming with pleasure until Mac speaks up.

“Hey, you’re not coming before me, okay? So hurry up.”

Dennis chuckles, “What, you’re jealous of me fucking myself?” and pulls his fingers out before pressing in once more as far as he can go, gasping slightly through his mocking laughter.

Mac takes the lube from its place on the bedspread, coats his pointer finger, kneels before Dennis, and touches the rim of his ass to get Dennis’ attention.  He supposes Dennis might be affronted, but instead he’s just amused, “Oh, you want to help?  Go ahead.”

And so he does.

Mac slips his finger gingerly in alongside Dennis’s two, feeling Dennis tighten around him and watching Dennis’ back arch against the mattress.

“Oh, that’s good, that’s—ah, that should be good,” Dennis removes his fingers as does Mac, “Ahhh, god, ah, Mac I’m ready.”

“No you’re not,” Mac lifts the hem of Dennis’ chemise up, and Dennis cooperates, slipping the material up over his shoulders. The stockings and garter belt follow their companion to the floor as Mac makes a point to reveal as much of Dennis’ surprisingly smooth skin as possible.  After squeezing some lube into his palm and stroking himself a couple times, Mac props himself up above Dennis with a forearm. He guides his cock into Dennis’ ass, and as he sinks deeper, Dennis hooks a leg around Mac’s waist.

The first couple thrusts are slow, testing the waters before Mac gets up the courage to start fucking pounding Dennis into the bed. His rhythm isn’t steady by any means, but he’s eager to fuck the most satisfying sounds out of his roommate.

“Ah, Mac, you’re, oh FUCK.  God, oh god why didn’t we do this earlier. Holy shit this is so _good._ You’re so fucking good, Mac,” Dennis wraps his arms tight around Mac’s torso as Mac presses himself into Dennis’ sweaty chest.  Mac holds himself inside Dennis for a moment, shoving their lips, tongues, teeth, breath together. 

“Hmmmm,” Mac starts to thrust his hips again, “Dennis, you’re—ah,” Dennis bites into Mac’s shoulder lightly and sucks to leave a comical red lipstick mark.

“What is it? Hmm,” Dennis loudly kisses Mac’s jaw, subsequently reaching down to slap and squeeze Mac’s ass, “You know this is the first time I’ve ever let anyone fuck me, right?  I don’t let just anyone fuck me, Mac.”

“Oh fuck Dennis, I’m—ah, you’re so beautiful. Holy shit, Dennis. _Dennis._ I need—“ Mac closes his eyes tight, blushing an even darker shade of red past his sex flushed cheeks.

“Tell me what you need, baby boy.”

“I need…you to say you love me.”

Dennis smirks, running a hand absently through Mac’s hair.  It doesn’t matter if he means it, he doesn’t think so.  But in this moment, it’ll be the closest Dennis has come to actually loving Mac for a while, so he lifts his head to press a gentle kiss to his friend’s lips,   
“I love you, Mac.”  

Mac’s eyes are wide, storing this moment deep and letting it pierce his heart in whatever ways it wants to.  “I love you, too,” he whispers like God might overhear his secret. 

\------------------------------------------------

Dennis hopes this night is the start of a New Chapter, a surprising twist to their respective second acts.

The next week Dennis has plans to make out with Mac while they watch the extended cut of Thunder Gun Express so that their ‘thing’ or whatever it is becomes casual, no more giving into impulses after months of tension.  However…

Unbeknownst to even the Golden God, their apartment will be gone by then, and as fate may have it, the word “love” won’t even cross Dennis’ mind over the next three years.


End file.
